In the good old days, however, a magic thread (_dora_), or a charm (_mantra_), was enough to scare the fever-spirit away.[1] In obstinate cases, no doubt, the spirit had to be exorcised from the body of the patient by a _Bhuva_ or _Bhagat_ and transferred to some animate or inanimate object, or perhaps a cock or a goat or a buffalo had to be sacrificed to propitiate the disease-deity. That, however, was all. A special offering for the Benares godling _Jvaraharísvara_, “the god who repels the fever,” was _Dudhbhanga_, a confection of milk (_dudh_), leaves of the hemp plant (_bhanga_) and sweets. Of all such remedies and expedients the simplest and the quaintest was that for driving the malaria fiend away. One had only to listen to the story of _Ekānterio_, the spirit controlling intermittent fever, and one got immunity for ever. The legend runs that once a Bania, on his way to a village, came across a banyan tree where he unyoked his bullocks and went to a distance in search of water. _Ekānterio_, who resided in this tree, carried away the Bania’s carriage together with his family. The Bania was much surprised to miss them, but he soon found out the author of the trick and pursued _Ekānterio_. That fever-goblin, however, would not listen to the Bania’s entreaties to return his carriage, and the matter was at last referred for arbitration to Bochki Bai. She decided in favour of the Bania, and confined _Ekānterio_ in a bamboo tube whence he was released on condition that he would never attack those who listened to this story.[2]